


Rave About You

by mitslits



Series: Prompts [62]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: M/M, i pictured harry bright in mamma mia clothes, undercover in a rave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 06:05:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12550828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits
Summary: What about hartwin story, where Harry is on a mission at a posh party. He needs to retrieve (imformation/files/data/important artifact/whatever you come up with) somewhere in the house, but collides with/meets (either after or before he gets the thing) a young handsome man on the way out. Turns out this young man was a thief and had managed to either steal the thing before Harry got it, or managed to pickpocket him when they crashed together, so now Harry has to find him and get the thing back. And imagine Merlin cackling because Harry was set to steal something, only for it to be stolen by someone else first. Of course Harry needs to find the thief and restore his pride, or Merlin will remind him of this failure for years to come!





	Rave About You

This is not Harry’s scene. Neon body paint, seizure-inducing lights, and glowsticks aren’t his idea of a good time. 

Unfortunately his target, one Charlie Hesketh, holds a different opinion. 

Despite the fact that he’s dressed down in khakis and a mostly-unbuttoned button down, Harry still feels incredibly overdressed. Not to mention old as dirt. There isn’t a single other person there who looks like they’re even pushing 30. 

“A shame Lancelot is in Tanzania,” Merlin says drily. “You don’t exactly blend in.” 

“Shut up,” Harry says, barely moving his lips. He wonders if Merlin can even hear him over the pounding music. 

Merlin chuckles, a good indication that he’s enjoying Harry’s discomfort far more than he should be. “Focus, Galahad. As soon as you get the drug, you can get out.” 

“Brilliant.” Finding a specific drug in a place like this is going to be like looking for a needle in a pile of other needles, but Harry sets himself to it. He knows what the supplier looks like. He just has to find her. 

Poppyseed had sprung up practically overnight and there was something… off about it. Users were experiencing strange side effects, among them a blue rash, and Kingsman wasn’t about to let that go uninvestigated. In theory, buying drugs was easy, but Poppyseed had proved irritatingly elusive. The biggest problem with having an organization full of old, white men? None of them had seedy connections. 

To really rub the situation in Harry’s face, half the people in the warehouse were covered in blue. Trying to look like he’s just moving to the beat, Harry weaves through the sea of youths, keeping an eye out for one in particular. 

It’s not easy to spot anyone in a place like this. There’s barely any light for one, and the pressing crush of bodies makes it difficult to even move. More than once, Harry finds himself being danced up next to, even on, and by the time he’s made his way across the main dance floor, two more of his buttons have come undone. 

Shaking his head, Harry doesn’t bother to do them back up. This is hell. “A little help, Merlin?” he mutters. 

“I’m looking,” Merlin says. 

Harry presses himself up against the nearest wall and runs his gaze over the crowd to give Merlin as good a view as possible. 

“Got him,” Merlin hisses just as a target appears in Harry’s glasses. 

It circles a blue-eyed man with a buzz cut, holed up in a booth with a blue-covered blonde cozied up next to him. Charlie Hesketh, according to their intel. And the girl must be Clara. 

To Harry, they are only tools. With a deep breath in, he plunges back into the crowd. It takes him an agonizingly long time to get across to the booths and he arrives slightly less put together than he had been. His hair, normally so smooth and styled, tumbles into his face and he’s streaked with body paint of all colors. If he has to go back in there, he’s not sure he’ll make it out alive. 

But Harry can’t focus on that now. He has a part to play. He slips easily into the role as he approaches Charlie, trying to look as out of it as he can. It’s not difficult. The oscillating lights are starting to give him a headache. 

“I hear you’re the one with the best shit here,” Harry says. He practically has to shout to be heard over the music. 

Charlie looks up at him and one corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “You lost, old man?” he asks. “Made a wrong turn on the way to bingo night?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m exactly where I want to be,” he says. “Do you have what I’m looking for or not?” 

Still looking more than a little amused, Charlie leans back in his suit. “Yeah, I’ve got it. You better be willing to pay, though. Good shit doesn’t come cheap.” 

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes again. “I can pay,” he says. “Once I know you’re legit.” 

Charlie pulls out a small packet of a dark black substance. 

Harry’s glasses scan the object and impose a dossier next to it. 

Substance: Poppyseed [confirmed]. 

Harry inclines his head and pulls out a wad of notes. He peels off a few and tosses them down, waiting till Charlie’s snatched them up to pocket the Poppyseed. 

“Nice doing business with you,” Charlie drawls. “Don’t break a hip on your way out.” 

Grumbling under his breath about cheeky young upstarts, Harry starts making his way back to the door. If possible, the crowd seems to have gotten even thicker, nearly suffocating him. Harry barely notices when there’s a new body pressed up close to him until it speaks. 

“Sorry about that, mate. Can’t move for shit in here.” 

Harry looks down to see a young man plastered against his chest with a sheepish grin on his face. He’s bare-chested with neon orange tiger stripes painted along his chest and sides. Some of the paint is smudging off on Harry’s shirt, making them both glow in the dark. Harry also realizes the stranger has glow-in-the-dark lipstick on. He didn’t know glow-in-the-dark lipstick was even a thing. 

As quick as he came, the stranger melts back into the crowd, neon tiger stripes dissolving into the rainbow of other colors on the dance floor. 

Strange. But then, this whole night has been a little strange. Harry brushes it off and keeps heading for the exit. He emerges into the still night air with a sigh of relief. The music is still blasting, but it’s muffled enough by the warehouse door that Merlin should be able to hear him now. “I’ve got it,” he mutters. 

“Good,” Merlin says. “Head to the extraction point. A car will be there soon.” 

Harry slips his hand into his pocket just out of habit and his fingers find -- nothing. Frowning, Harry tugs the pocket inside out. He’s pretty sure that’s the one he put the Poppyseed in, but there are so many pockets in these khakis he’s starting to doubt himself. He begins a frantic search through the rest of his pockets, but they all come up equally as empty. “Dammit,” he hisses. Where the hell could it have go-? 

Tiger stripes. 

Harry would bet money that bumping into him hadn’t been an accident. The kid had been a damn pickpocket. A muscle in his jaw twitches, and he curses himself for being distracted by glowing lipstick. Now he has to go back in there. 

“Slight change of plans, Merlin,” Harry mutters as he prepares to face the crowd again. “I need a few minutes.” 

“Harry, what-” 

But Harry switches off his feed. No need to let Merlin know that Harry lost the drug mere seconds after acquiring it. He’d never hear the end of that one. 

The music washes over him in a tidal wave of sound as Harry pushes back in. He’s less forgiving this time, forging a way through the crowd without worrying about how many feet he steps on or ribs he elbows. He cranes his head, desperately searching for neon orange. There’s too much bloody neon in here. 

Eventually, he spots him, but it’s not the tiger stripes that do it. It’s that glow-in-the-dark lipstick. Because of course it is. 

Harry barrels toward him, fists clenched. He’s getting that Poppyseed back, and then he’s getting the hell out of here. But he can’t just go up and take it from him. Harry doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, and the kid just picked an unfortunate target. He’s still mostly an innocent civilian. Mostly. 

Letting out a long sigh, Harry tries to loosen up. He dances up behind the man, who his glasses identify as Gary “Eggsy” Unwin, ex-Marine, son of Lee and Michelle Unwin. Hoping this won’t backfire spectacularly, Harry presses up behind Eggsy, hands settling on his hips. His fingers start sneaking their way into Eggsy’s pockets. 

Eggsy doesn’t even seem surprised, just grinds back against Harry enthusiastically. Smirk on his lips, he tips his head back to look at him -- and his eyes spark with recognition and a brief flash of panic. 

Harry moves his lips close to Eggsy’s ear so he can hear him over the music. “Relax. I just want my Poppyseed back.” 

Eggsy freezes for a second longer before he jerks away from Harry and plunges back into the crowd. 

“God fucking-” Harry doesn’t hesitate to follow after him. He’s not going to lose him again. Leaving a trail of indignant yelps and insults behind him, Harry tails Eggsy. Thankfully, he seems to be heading for a part of the warehouse that isn’t as populated, a section near the DJ’s booth.

The music is overwhelmingly loud here, and Harry grits his teeth against it, pushes on. Eventually, the crowd thins enough that he surges forward and catches Eggsy up, one hand locking around his wrist. 

Eggsy makes a strangled sound as he’s tugged suddenly backwards. He spins to face Harry, straining against him. “Let me go!” he shouts. 

Or at least Harry thinks that’s what he’s saying. It’s far too loud next to the speakers to hear anything. He holds his free hand up, and Eggsy flinches. 

Oh. 

Harry drops his arm back to his side and loosens his grip fractionally. “I just want the drug!” he yells. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Eggsy narrows his eyes suspiciously. He doesn’t give him the Poppyseed, but he does stop struggling. “How do I know?” he shouts back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “Know what?” 

“That you ain’t gonna hurt me?” Eggsy juts his jaw out stubbornly. 

Harry opens his mouth to explain, but the song switches just then to something even louder. Growling in frustration, Harry starts pulling Eggsy to somewhere marginally quieter. 

When they’re back in the embrace of the crowd, Harry pulls Eggsy closer to him so they’re practically plastered together again. It’s the only way to be heard over the music. Harry isn’t enjoying this, of course. Because, yes, Eggsy is attractive, and that glowing lipstick is still incredibly  distracting, but he’s also impeding the mission.  

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have already,” Harry says. “I told you before, I just want the drug.” 

Eggsy spends a minute contemplating that. Then, slowly, he reaches into his pocket and draws out the tiny packet that has been such a headache. Still looking cautious, he holds it out. 

Harry takes it with a nod and slips it into a buttoned pocket this time. That should help keep it away from anymore thieving fingers. He lifts his hands to his chest, the sign of surrender. “That’s all I wanted.” He takes a few steps backwards before adding, “I like your lipstick, by the way.” 

Eggsy’s sullen pout transforms into a smirk. “Yeah? Wanna try it on?” 

One of Harry’s eyebrows quirks upwards. “Alright.” He expects Eggsy to hand him a tube of it or something but, to his surprise, Eggsy steps forward and tugs him down by the collar. Their lips meet, and Harry blinks a couple of times. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. Eggsy’s lips are soft and warm against his, and Harry finds himself sinking into the kiss. 

Until he feels fingers scrabbling at the button of his pocket. 

Harry breaks the kiss off, grabbing Eggsy’s wrist and pulling it away. He glares at him. 

Eggsy just smiles back at him with a little wrinkle of his nose. “Had to try, didn’t I, mate? Was worth it, though. You’re a good kisser.” 

Harry opens his mouth to say… he doesn’t even know what, but by the time he’s collected his thoughts, Eggsy has lost himself to the crowd again. 

Harry doesn’t reactivate his comms until he’s outside the warehouse again. 

-

When he gets back to headquarters, Merlin is waiting for him with a stony glare. “If you ever cut off your feed again in the middle of a mission, I swear to Christ-” 

Harry tosses the packet of Poppyseed onto Merlin’s desk. “I know, I know. But it was successful, so I’m going to take that as an empty threat.” 

Merlin snorts and turns his attention to the drug. 

Thus dismissed, Harry turns to leave. 

“Oh, and Galahad?” Merlin says without looking up. 

Harry pauses in the doorway. “Hmmm?” 

“Your lips are glowing.” 


End file.
